


set theory

by ultranos



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:37:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1921806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultranos/pseuds/ultranos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rules are made to find creative ways around them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	set theory

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Elsa!Week on Tumblr. I swear to god, this thing probably could have ended up a novel if I wasn't careful. Special thanks to counterpunches and rowanwood for being sounding boards, and especially to neworleansladyjane and theseerasures for the beta work; if anything sucks, it’s my fault.

In retrospect, it really wasn't any sort of surprising that Anna figured it out first. Well, "figured out" is probably the wrong phrase, as that implies Elsa was attempting to hide something. She really wasn't, but so it goes.

The thump of a knock on the door interrupts the scratching of a quill against parchment. Elsa stills her hand, mindful of the ink still on the nib. "Come in." (It still feels good to say that.)

Anna comes parading through the door. It's really the only word that fits, what with the march step and the smile of the cat who got the cream. And she has a large book displayed proudly in her arms...okay, that's new.

"Anna?"

Elsa only _barely_ manages to swipe her parchment out of the way before her sister slams the book down on her desk with a resounding thud. Anna puts her left hand palm-down on the cover, and leans over the desk, smile growing more smug by the second. She points her free hand right at Elsa's face. "You. You're up to something."

"What."

"'Official Ice Master and Deliverer'? I looked it up! Kristoff was right; you totally made that up. And I want to know why."

Elsa looks down at the tome. Ah. That explained it. She looks back up at her sister, face blank. "Tjurkö."

Anna blinks. "Geshundheit."

Elsa shakes her head slightly, fighting a small smile. "Tjurkö 275." She taps the book. "This is Kylver. Kylver rewrote much of our code about two hundred years ago, but some parts of the old legal code as written in Tjurkö's book are still valid." She places the parchment down on the nearest clear spot on the desk (there aren't many), and stands up. Then, knowing Anna's eyes are following her every move, she turns to the nearest bookshelf, searching, and pulls out a (relatively) slim tome before sitting back down. Elsa gives up hiding the small grin as she hands Anna the book, flipping to the correct page. "You'll want this page."

Anna takes the book with slightly narrowed eyes. Her jaw drops when she reaches the relevant section, and Elsa has to school her face into perfect innocence to avoid cracking up at Anna's fish impression. Because she knows, right on that page, Anna is reading That Chart.

"But...what...huh?"

Elsa takes care to adjust her glasses and then fold her hands primly in front of her on the desk. "It's not a position that's been filled in at least four generations, and it's largely ceremonial. But I thought Mr. Bjorgman had earned it, and some traditions would be nice to bring back, considering how...unconventional...some other parts of my reign have started out." She smiles wryly. "Oh, I almost forgot. The position _does_ have some duties attached, so the next time you see him, could you tell him I need to talk to him? It's not urgent."

Anna narrows her eyes. "You...how was I supposed to find this out, if you were hiding the book?"

Elsa blinks. "I didn't know you were looking for it. I'm sorry? I've been using it, so that's why it's in here and not the library." She hesitates a moment, then decides it won't hurt anything. "If you want to borrow it...?"

Anna drops the book like it's on fire and takes a step back, waving her hands in front of her as if to ward off the mere suggestion of studying a legal text. "No, no, no, I'm totally fine. You keep it." She laughs and twines her hands together. Elsa holds back a frown; that gesture...it's not supposed to go there. (Why is that there?) She opens her mouth, then closes it quickly. It’s not important. Anna doesn’t notice. "I should have known you wouldn't make something up like that. By-the-book and all that. I just had the wrong book. I'll just...I'll just leave you to your queenly duties." She grins. "And I get to tell Kristoff that I was right and it _totally is_ a thing."

Elsa keeps her face carefully blank as Anna says goodbye and leaves. The door closes with a click behind her. Elsa leans forward, face resting on her hands as she bridges them over her mouth, and lets the mischievous grin that's been threatening to break across her face for the last ten minutes out.

By-the-book, huh?

\---

_Father is in his study, bent over some correspondence. She hovers by the door, fingers twisting in the cool fabric of her gloves. "You asked for me, Father?"_

_He looks up from his work, carefully setting the quill down. "Ah, Elsa. Please, come in."_

_She does, and she gingerly takes a seat when he motions at the chair. Her hands are folded in her lap, and she tries not to fidget with them as he looks at her from across the dark wooden desk. Finally, he sighs and hands over one of the many sheets of parchment littering the surface. It's a letter, wax seal already broken, and she silently accepts it._

_"It's another marriage proposal," he says as she opens the folds._

_Oh._

_Still, she reads it. It sounds much like the other fifteen they've gotten in the past year. She swallows hard, despite knowing her father is watching her reaction like a hawk. (The ice creeps up her spine; she's barely breathing, as if that will stop the tendrils crawling up come on, conceal it Elsa, don't feel.) "Would it be correct to assume you're writing a response, Father?"_

_He looks at her, searching for something that Elsa can't divine, can't comprehend. "I am." He leans back in his chair, still with that inscrutable expression. "I'm declining it."_

_She keeps a tight reign on her features at the pronouncement, although it feels like a weight has been lifted, only to be replaced by another. (The ice along her spine retreats, working backwards from the branching tree that slithered in her veins. In her more whimsical moments, Elsa wonders what the graph of it would be, if it would fan out and multiply like Fibonacci's triangle, or act more like the snowflakes Koch writes of.) Elsa isn't stupid. There are only so many young men of proper age and station suitable for her, and with every rejected proposal, her prospects in this regard grow smaller. It could very well be a political nightmare within a few years for Arendelle, if there is no match for its queen._

_The worst part is that Elsa can't bring herself to **care**. A husband would mean touching another person, something she absolutely cannot afford to do. And maybe that's what Father knows, maybe that's why he keeps declining, so no one would know their secret. (So Anna's prospects wouldn't be ruined, a small voice in her mind hisses, and it's correct. What family would risk a curse as hers in the bloodline, even through her sister?) But that's not all of it, is it? If she's honest with herself, and really, she has nothing but honesty for herself, that fear isn't enough to explain release of tension every time her father rejects another suitor._

_She’s empty, full of nothing. The empty set._

_He can dress it up, pretty as you please, but there's something **wrong** inside her. And it's not just the curse. He's the king; he should not be risking their political future on this, not unless he has a different motive. Even a long betrothal, with stipulations for once she came of age, with the option of either party backing out, **anything** would be better than rejecting them like this._

_Elsa stares her father in the eye. She still can't figure out what she's missing._

_Father takes the letter back, folds it carefully, and files it away with the rest. Another nail in the coffin of her marriage prospects. Another nail in Arendelle's political future._

_And all Elsa can feel is relief._

\---

Anna's next clue is probably That Council Meeting months later. Elsa had set the precedent fairly early on in her reign that her sister was to be considered her right-hand, which meant that the various members of the Council had better get used to seeing the Princess in these meetings.

At the moment, Elsa is regretting that decision, because only her hand on Anna's wrist is stopping her sister from leaping across the table and strangling her financial minister where he stands with his own beard. The man, Hasselmark, has been on the council since before her father and quite clearly has _no idea_ how close he is to death.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" Elsa's voice is deceptively soft. (Her guard captain whips her head around at the sound. Smart.) She can taste the rime on the back of her tongue, but Anna's wrist is warm beneath her hand. That's enough.

The old man doesn't seem to get the out she's offering him. "I said that you should end the Princess's...relations...with that commoner, so that we may make a match far more befitting of her station before she is led to ruin." Hasselmark frowns impressively from beneath his bushy eyebrows. "Especially since _you_ seem to be so remiss in _your_ duties of providing an heir."

Anna actually growls at her side. Now the Commander of the Navy is openly scowling, and she can see the twitch in her Prime Minister's fist. Good. Elsa keeps her face blank. The temperature in the room doesn't so much as waver. "I see." She squeezes Anna's wrist briefly, once, then lets go and leans forward, propping her elbows on the table, bridging her hands together and leaning her chin against them. (She catches that the Admiral's eyes widen in surprise at her actions out of the corner of her vision. Interesting.)

She sits like that for a while, staring over her hands at Hasselmark. He meets her eyes, and the longer she stays quietly looking at him, the redder he gets. "Mister Hasselmark. You were appointed by my grandfather, correct?"

Now he looks confused. "Yes."

"Then you should remember that I am merely following the laws and protocols set down by my father. Before his death, King Agdar followed the succession protocol that, if the current ruler of Arendelle has no children, by blood or adoption, then they may designate the heir out of the line of succession. For this particular purpose, he signed into law that the Princess Anna _is_ my heir, unless I declared otherwise." Her lips twitched, hidden by her hands. "I should know. I was in the room when he signed it. Therefore, please explain how I have left Arendelle's future in jeopardy in this regard."

Hasselmark blusters impressively, but it comes to nothing. She keeps as still as a statue, eyes never wavering from his face, her own face she keeps in an impeccable mask. (She practiced it enough.) Finally, he subsides, but before she can feel Anna fully relax besides her, he rounds on her again. "That does not take away the fact that _your heir_ is _consorting_ with an ice harvester. The heir of Arendelle is not allowed to marry a mere commoner!"

"Guild Master."

"I beg your pardon?"

"His title is Master Bjorgman. I received a letter today informing me that the Ice Harvester Guild has named Master Bjorgman as their new Guild Master. Apparently, the Guild is quite pleased with notoriety he has as the Official Ice Master and Deliverer for the Crown, and his elevation was unanimous." (She can feel Anna's surprise without even looking at her. Elsa only feels a little guilty that she didn't give Kristoff a chance to tell Anna himself. But only a little.)

"Fine. _Master_ Bjorgman, impressive as his title is, is still not a suitable match for a princess, and her relations with him must end immediately."

The Master of the Stonemason's Guild has a frown on her face now. Elsa lets herself chuckle, and tips her hand, just a little. "Mister Hasselmark, you surprise me." Her eyes narrow. "Surprise me in that you have served on this council for this long and you _still do not know our laws_."

"What?!"

"Anna." Elsa slightly tilts her head towards the small stack of books she brought to the meeting with her. "If you would, please read to Mister Hasselmark the marked passage on page 275 of Tjurkö."

Anna slowly picks up the book and flips to the relevant page. (Elsa knows she's going to pay for this one. Hopefully, Anna will not be _too_ upset with Elsa moving her around like a chess piece.) (She's already got the kitchens prepping chocolate cake in case Anna is anyway.) "The title of Guild Master of any of the Major Guilds of Arendelle, of which include the Stonemasons, Smiths, Weavers and Tanners, Ice Harvesters, Fishers, and Shipwrights, also grants the rights and privileges of Baron, excluding those pertaining to the inheritance of the title for heirs of the body." Elsa doesn't have to see her sister to know Anna is sporting a grin that probably threatens to split her face in half.

"Princess Anna, when you read through Kylver, did you see anything that would contradict this law?"

"No, I didn't."

Elsa flicks her gaze over. "Mister Prime Minister, you've studied Kylver's work, correct?"

He blinks. She can spot the ghost of a smile creeping onto his lips. "I did, Your Majesty."

"Would this law from Tjurkö be invalidated by anything from that?"

"No, Your Majesty."

She looks back to Hasselmark, who is looking quite purple. That can't be good for his health. "It appears the law is clear in this matter. If Master Bjorgman wishes to continue his suit, there is no legal reason stopping him and at the time, does not concern this body. However, the Crown does thank you for your concern.”

The man draws himself up, puffing out his chest. Elsa imagines that it might have looked impressive, once, but the years of easy living have ruined the effect. "I have served Arendelle faithfully since your grandfather. You are the third ruler I have seen sit in that chair, and for you to speak to me as such..."

Elsa’s eyes widen, and she drops her hands in surprise.

“Mister Hasslemark, there was no offense,” the Admiral rumbles.

“I beg your pardon?” Anna stiffens beside her, eyes flashing. Elsa breathes in, trying to find something that will calm him, something that will diffuse this situation from spiraling out of her control. But one look at his face, and she knows it’s not going to happen. She tastes the rime in the back of her throat, her power rising to face the threat, and she tries to force it down. She can’t afford to lose control, not here. Not after everything she’s just won.

“Do you think that just because you wear the crown, just because you are a sorceress, that you can come here and dance upon our traditions, girl?” He grinds out. “Your grandfather saw us through a war, and now a _child_ presumes to tell me what our laws are?”

The room erupts into noise. The prime minister and Admiral are yelling at the old man, the guilds’ representative trying to keep the peace. Elsa doesn’t hear any of it. All she hears is the howling in her blood, her power roaring in her ears as she tries to hold her ice steady. Her hands find purchase on the edge of the table and grip it tightly, tight enough for her knuckles to ache. She can feel the ice slithering in her veins, and she digs her fingers in, trying to force it back.

And then she feels a warm hand on her shoulder. Anna. Anna is still here, quiet and only watching her. It’s faith. They need no words here, not really, not anymore. She can do this. And it’s no use denying what she is, how she is bound by what she is. All she can do now is accept it, fully and completely. So she takes a breath, and lets it go.

“Enough.” The temperature in the room _drops_ with a single, soft word. And everything stops. ( _Sorry, Anna._. There _is_ a monster inside of her, but it's a useful monster.) “You may have served my grandfather, but he no longer wears the crown. I do, and I will not tolerate disrespect towards the Crown Princess or myself.”

Elsa lets the man sputter and bluster for a bit, but he seems to realize, among the stony faces of the council, that he has no friends here, not anymore, and trails off. Elsa lets him hang for a moment, silently daring him to squirm under her gaze and those of his peers. She leans back in her chair, away from the table, and folds her hands into her lap. "Mister Hasselmark, the Crown thanks you for your years of service and releases you from your obligations." The words are rote, but weighted.

Hasselmark knows it too. "What?"

"You're retired, old man. Be thankful I'm not throwing you in chains for your disrespect," the Admiral growls.

Hasselmark tries to argue, but the Admiral and Prime Minister are having none of it. Elsa leaves them to it. The meeting is mostly adjourned when the Prime Minister basically marches the old man from the room. The rest of the council follows. The Admiral murmurs "Thought I saw Idun for a moment. That was well-done. Both her and Agdar would be proud" to her as he passes, and Elsa feels a warmth she hasn't felt in a long time spread through her veins, chasing away the last of the ice.

The door clicks shut and it's just her and Anna left in the room. Elsa gathers up the books and her papers, waiting. She doesn't have to wait long.

"Elsa, what was that?"

Elsa lets herself deliberately misunderstand. “I nearly lost control in the middle of a council meeting. Thank you, by the way. I’m pretty sure we would have have to buy new furniture if you weren’t here to calm me down.”

Anna scowls, and okay, that's impressive. Really, really impressive. Has she been practicing? "Elsa. That's not what I meant and you know it."

Elsa sighs, and drops the books on the table. She brings her left hand up to rub the bridge of her nose. "Which part?"

"You knew that...that...old windbag was going to try to start something today. And you knew _exactly_ how everyone was going to react."

"Well...not exactly, no." Elsa lets her hand fall, crossing her arms and leans against the table. "I knew Hasselmark would _eventually_ object to...many things. I just made sure I was ready for them." (Watching the pattern. Once she had his measure, could slot him into the proper subset, it was easy.)

"With that book, huh," Anna says, pointing at the slim volume in question. "That thing keeps popping up."

Elsa shrugs. "It's...useful."

Anna shakes her head. "I don't know if I'll ever get what's going through that head of yours." She blinks hard, then smiles, wide and wicked. "Wait, does this mean you approve of Kristoff?"

Elsa gives her a flat look. "What do you think?"

Anna just skips out of the council room, grinning all the while.

\---

_Elsa's in the library for lessons with Mother. The fire crackles merrily in the fireplace, a counterpoint to the strange tension inside her. Well, the tension isn't that strange; it's a constant thing, like the string on a viola tuned too tight, so the slight wrong slip of pressure of the bow across it causes catastrophic failure. She barely feels it now, only when things get a little too sharp, when she feels it all building beneath her skin, when the gloves start feeling a little too tight._

_The meeting with Father a few days ago about the latest marriage proposal still sits uneasily in her mind, as does her reaction to his decision. She knows she has a duty, to Arendelle and to her family, but something inside her howls at the thought of marriage, of facing another's touch. To say nothing of another in her bed. Even the mere thought of it has her tasting hoarfrost, and she chokes it down before Mother can notice._

_"Elsa, you have read all of Kylver's work, correct?"_

_Elsa's head shoots up from where she's been bent over the treaties written before her grandfather's time. Mother isn't quite looking at her, instead standing before one of the many bookshelves, searching for something. "Yes, Mother."_

_"Good. The majority of our legal code is in Kylver, but his work is only two hundred years old. Prior to that, we obviously used a different, if mostly similar, code. Kylver was merely an update." She apparently finds what she's looking for and pulls a volume from the shelf. Mother turns, glides over to the desk Elsa is working at, and slides the book across the surface. "This," she says, tapping the leather cover, "is Tjurkö. You'll find her work to be the basis of a majority of Kylver's. However, there are parts of Tjurkö that Kylver did not update and are still perfectly active laws." Elsa looks up, catches a small smile on Mother's face. "Useful things to know."_

_Elsa looks down, tracing the lines in the worn leather with her eyes. "Thank you, Mother," she says, dutifully, hollowly. There's a weight here, something unnamed that has her twisting her fingers together inside her gloves, beneath the desk. Staring at the book cover keeps her from wilting under her mother's gaze._

_"I've used sections out of it myself, on numerous occasions," Mother continues, and almost against her will, Elsa looks up. Thankfully, Mother isn't staring at her, instead choosing to look down at the book herself, almost fondly. "She's especially useful for older laws, mostly left over from when Arendelle was a trading hold and the nobility had a much more equal relationship with tradesmen and merchants. Well, more than we currently do." Mother sighs. "Sometimes, I think, those old laws had the right of it."_

_Later, she won't know why she did it. There was no reason for her to, and yet, she just can't stop herself. "I spoke with Father a few days ago," she blurts out._

_Mother stills for a long moment, and then lets out a soft breath. "About the latest proposal."_

_"Yes."_

_"He rejected it?"_

_The word gets caught in her throat, sharp and cold, but this time, she has to let that out. "Yes."_

_Mother hums tunelessly, and stares at the fire. "Good."_

_Elsa swallows and works her jaw. "But what about...I don't understand how this can be a good thing, if every suitor is rejected." The words taste bitter on her tongue, like ice that's been in the cold box too long. But she needs to know, needs to **understand** the form of logic they're using, because the rules are opaque to her. It's unsettling, the lack of rules, the lack of a protocol she can see. (She's bound herself up in rules and logic, a cage of abstraction that's comforting and confining at the same time. The lines of what belongs to what set, where those things intersect and diverge. This and not this. That and not that.) Because she knows what should be **expected** of her, and she doesn't know if this is just another area where expectations on her mean nothing._

_Her mother sighs deeply, again. "Your father and I are working on that, don't worry. Arendelle's future will be provided for. We'll officially name Anna as your heir and, unless you see fit to change it, the line of succession will go through her."_

_Oh. **Oh.**_

_Elsa drops her head against her chest and breathes in deeply through her nose. There's hoarfrost clinging to her throat, and she makes herself go still, nails biting through the gloves into the palm of her hand. Because all she wants to do is curl up and not come out, not ever, but she can't because Mother is here. Because the weight of **failure** is almost too much to hold. Failure to be a good daughter, a good princess, a good ruler, a good sister. Of course her parents can't count on her, can't count on her to provide for Arendelle, so they must make provisions themselves._

_She can try, she does try so hard to be perfect, to stand under the weight of all their expectations, and it seems she is always falling short. (Sometimes, she thinks she was a mistake. That Anna should have been born first, because it's so easy for people to love Anna. Because Anna cares, and people would die for her, would gladly sacrifice everything.) (But then would it be Anna here, the weight of responsibility dragging her down to drown?) Like right now. Her hands come up and clutch at her forearms, underneath the desk, trying to hold it all in. Because there is something **wrong** with her, something beyond the ice._

_Because even without the ice, she doesn't think she'd want a marriage like that, she doesn't think the thought of someone in her bed would be any more appealing. And she's read books, overheard what staff they have, and if there's one thing for certain, everyone expects young women of her age to **talk of nothing else**. Every girl is supposed to want a prince to come, a dashing and charming young man to sweep her off her feet, engage in a storybook romance. And she **doesn't**. She'd rather throw herself into the fjord and see if her ice let her float indefinitely._

_She must make a noise, because Mother spins around. "Elsa? Oh...oh dear heart, no. Whatever it is you're thinking, no."_

_Elsa looks up. Her mother is standing there, hand slightly outstretched before it stopped, hovering close to Elsa's head. In another life, her hand would have continued its journey, allowing Mother to run it through Elsa's hair. But in this one, she can't. (Elsa wishes desperately that it was the other life, because she dreams of ghost fingers combing through her hair, phantom lips pressing to her forehead in comfort. And instead wakes up to frozen tears and frosted pillows.) In this life, Elsa is left staring at that hand, staring at the sad and broken look on Mother's face as the hand slowly falls away._

_Elsa stares at her mother in confusion, and more than a little heartbreak, as she walks away to her own desk in another corner of the library. She comes back, though, with a small stack of books. Even from here, Elsa can see the worn claps on some of them. Mother holds them out to her. "I found these for you," she says, slowly, softly. "They're the personal journals of queens who married late. Or not at all. I thought that...I thought you might be interested in them."_

_Elsa gingerly accepts the books, hands trembling as they close around worn leather, throat and chest tight. She runs her finger over the old clasp of the top journal, cracking it open to see the precise handwriting on old parchment. "That one," her mother continues, still speaking quietly, "is Queen Freydis' journal. Tjurkö was actually some relation of hers. She ruled when some of her contemporaries thought she was unfit to rule, and so started wars against her. She won." She pauses, just for a moment, before adding. "She never married, or had children. Her nephew inherited."_

_There's a warm feeling inside Elsa's chest. She holds it close to her heart, unsure as to what it is, and it fractures something instead. "Why?" she breathes out, voice cracking on the single syllable. "Why are you...?"_

_"Oh Elsa." Mother's eyes are shining with unshed tears. "All your father and I want, beyond anything else, is for you and Anna to be happy. You'll be fine, Elsa, as long as you're happy."_

\---

By the time Anna corners her some time later, Elsa's been expecting it for some time. They're just finishing up dinner, and about to start on dessert when Anna drops her fork with a clatter and slams her hands against the table. "Okay. I've been running it through my head, and I _still_ can't figure out the game you're playing, Elsa. First was you not changing Papa's decree about me being _your heir_ , then this thing with Kristoff! And I've had it. No more games, Elsa. I deserve to know what's going on."

Really, Anna's getting better, despite the way she's sitting with her arms crossed against her chest and jaw set in a firm line. Apparently, Elsa's earned her "serious face". Elsa looks at her sister for a long moment. "All right then." And then she finishes the last of her wine and stands from the table. Walking to the door, she catches Johann's, one of the serving boys, eye and he steps forward, eager. "If you would, could you ask the kitchen to send up hot chocolate and cookies up to my study?" she murmurs. He nods, and shoots off like a comet.

She's at the door when she turns around, slightly bemused. "Well? Aren't you coming?" she teases, and has to hide a giggle as Anna looks at her slack-jawed before nearly falling over a chair in her haste to follow. Elsa pretends to not notice the scowl aimed at her as she walks through the halls to her study.

Anna keeps the scowl up until they reach the study. Johann appears, apparently having run all the way from the kitchens himself, with a tray of steaming mugs, a plate of cookies, and a small plate of chocolates. She takes it, dismisses him, and closes the door with her foot as she turns to face where Anna has already taken up residence on one of the large, comfy couches. Anna looks up at the contents of the tray as Elsa places it on a nearby table, scowl morphing into delighted grin. "I thought here was better suited for this conversation."

Anna takes a mug, and raises her eyebrows. "Okay, now I think you're buttering me up." That doesn't stop her from taking a sip, and then hissing out suddenly because of course she burned her tongue. Elsa rolls her eyes.

"You have caught me in my devious plots," she deadpans.

"Ha hah, you're a riot."

Elsa takes a mug for herself and sits down on the couch next to Anna. She just holds it in her hands for the moment, running her thumb around the ceramic edge. "It's not a game, not really," she says quietly.

"Really? I've seem some of your little smiles."

"Well," she hesitates. She chooses instead to blow across the liquid in the mug, watching the ripples fan out, echoing each other. (This is the hard part. All of her actions have always caused ripples such as this, but not all of them fit so easily into the equations of her life. The more recent ones have been happier, but she still doesn't know all the new ones yet.) "I can't deny that I'm pleased with how some things have turned out."

"Things that you've planned?" Anna's gaze is piercing, as if she's trying to see right through her (and when did Anna's sight become so clear? Or has it always been that way? Elsa's lived in her head too long).

"Yes, to an extent." She finally takes a sip, lets the rich chocolate play on her tongue before she swallows. "I never suggested to the Ice Harvesters' Guild to make Kristoff Guild Master."

"But you were pleased when they did. And you named him 'official Ice Master and Deliverer'." Anna finger-quotes the title. "You. The person with the magical ice powers. And you're saying _that_ didn't play into it."

"Of course it did." Elsa sighs. "Just like how I knew that there's a strong correlation between people who earn that sort of title being named Guild Master of their respective professions eventually."

Anna narrows her eyes. "How strong?"

Elsa winces, slightly. "About nine out of ten."

"Why?"

"Does he make you happy?"

Her sister blinks. "Of course he does. You know that."

Elsa nods. "And there's your reason."

"So, let me get this straight. You found a prestigious position that hasn't been filled in over five generations and give it to him, just so that his guild is that much more likely to put him in charge at some point, which then will give him the social standing in the eyes of the council so he could, in theory, court me _just_ because he makes me _happy_?"

"Four generations, but yes. Basically."

"Elsa. What."

"As you said earlier, you're my heir. I want you to be happy, and I don't want there to be any reason some idiot on the council would deny you. So if Kristoff makes you happy, well..." she shrugs. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

"Well, okay. I guess I can't be too mad at you over that." Anna takes another gulp of hot chocolate and reaches for a truffle and a cookie to munch on. “I just really wish you’d have told me sooner. I was going _crazy_ trying to figure out just what you were doing.” She grins, crumbs on her chin, and grabs another cookie. “I was half-convinced you were, I don’t know, plotting the takeover of an empire or something.”

“Anna, I already rule a country. Why would I want an empire?”

Anna just shrugs as if to say you never know and continues munching.

Elsa could leave it here. Anna's curiosity seems to be satisfied, or at least she's content enough with those answers. Elsa doesn't have to lay it all out on the table, could choose to keep it all close to her chest, and her sister would be none the wiser. But that would be the coward's way out, and for once in her life, Elsa is sick of running and even more tired of hiding. She stands up from the couch, moving to stare at the fire. Fire burns in a different way than ice does, in a cleaner way. Her secrets are buried deep, but maybe now is the time to dredge them up into the light. "Anna," she says lowly, "I'm not planning on getting married."

She can hear the 'ploup' of the cookie falling into her sister's drink. "What?" Anna gasps, because Anna isn't stupid, and while she could have played dumb, she understood Elsa perfectly.

She turns around, because she needs to look her sister in the eye, to plant her feet and not run from this, to be _honest_ and open. "You're my heir, and I'm not planning on getting married."

Anna looks down at her mug for a long while. Elsa just stands by the fireplace, not moving. When Anna looks back up, she looks like she's trying not to cry. "Is it...Elsa, is it because of your powers?"

That's the obvious question, isn't it? "At one point, yes. It was," she admits. "I didn't touch people and didn't want to be touched. Pretty hard to be married in that case. And I didn't think any family would want their sons marrying a mon--someone like me."

"Elsa..." Anna sniffs loudly, and tears start to fall. "Elsa, you..." she chokes on the words, and Elsa is there, on the couch and gathering her little sister in her arms. Anna clutches at the front of her vest and sobs into her neck. "Dammit, Elsa! That's not true and that's not fair!" She punches Elsa in the shoulder a few times, then is back to clinging. "It's not fair! You idiot, you...you deserve someone too! Why can't you be happy too?"

Elsa rubs her little sister's back, and sighs quietly. "I am happy. I'm happier than I've been in a long time." She hugs her a little tighter. "And I have someone already. Multiple someones. I have you and Olaf, and maybe someday I'll have Kristoff and Sven and whatever nieces and nephews you end up having. And the rest of Arendelle too."

"But that's not the same," Anna says into her shoulder.

Elsa runs her fingers through Anna's hair. "No, no it's not," she agrees. "But I don't _want_ the same thing you do."

Anna pulls back, and looks up at Elsa. "I don't...I don't understand. You're great. Why _shouldn't_ you get that?"

"It's not a question of should, not really anymore. It's what I want." She smiles. "And I want to be happy. And I won't be happy if I marry someone."

"But..."

Elsa puts a finger to Anna's lips to halt the question. "It's weird. Yes, at one point, it was because of my powers and because I was afraid. But that's not it, not anymore. I'm just...not interested in it." She bites her lip. "You know those shelves of romance novels in the library?" Anna nods. "I tried to avoid them. I read every other book in the library, even the old trade logs. Twice. But you wouldn't have caught me dead by those shelves."

Anna blinks. "Really? Those were my favorites."

"I figured," Elsa says dryly. "I would even read Father's old swashbuckling novels and page through the romance parts as fast as possible." Her lips quirk upwards. "Trust me, I was _never_ interested."

"So, that's it? You don't want to ever find someone because you don't like romance novels?"

Elsa sighs and runs a hand through her hair, tugging the bun loose. "Not entirely, no. That's not the reason, just indicative. I don't want to. And I don't _need_ to. I already feel happy and complete now."

It's hard to explain, really. She doesn't really fault Anna for not getting right away. It's taken herself far longer to understand it. She was right, all those years ago, in her father's study. She _is_ the empty set, but it doesn't mean that she's nothing. The empty set exists. It is always _something_. And it might look strange to other people, or hard to understand, but there isn't anything _wrong_ with it.

"So...so you always felt like this?"

Elsa hums in response. Now, sitting here with her sister, she thinks she finally understands the expression on her parents' faces all those years ago. It wasn't disappointment or unhappiness, beyond the unhappiness caused because they thought (knew) _she_ was unhappy. "I think," she says slowly, feeling the words out before she lets them out, "I think Mother knew, before I did."

"Really?" Anna sits up fully at this.

Elsa nods. "Pretty sure. And I think that's why Father made sure that I wouldn't be forced to marry, if I didn't want to." She makes a face. "Not that I understood that at the time. I was a bit of an emotional idiot."

"'Was?’" Anna teases.

Elsa sticks her tongue out. "Quiet you."

"So that's it then, isn't it? All of this, with the crazy legal loopholes and everything, was to also make sure _you_ were happy too."

She stills for a moment, then nods. "It was."

And Anna smiles, wide and happy, with not a trace of tears in her eyes. "Okay then."

Because it's all true. She doesn't need anyone else. Anna is happy. Her kingdom is safe, it's future assured. It's prosperous (especially after she managed to re-implement some of her father's old tricks with the finances, re-establish trading partners) and growing. And she _is_ happy.

So Elsa smiles back, wide and free.


End file.
